


Dru's Fairy Book of Vampire Stories

by J_Bell



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Bloodbaths, F/M, References to Torture, Smut, Story within a Story, The Whirlwind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 13:26:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6425770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_Bell/pseuds/J_Bell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Early days of the Whirlwind; Darla, Angelus, Drusilla and Spike break into the home of a well-to-do family, and Dru decides to pay a visit to the nursery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dru's Fairy Book of Vampire Stories

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: there's lots of BLOOD in this fic, and SEX, and SEX+BLOOD. Also, evil!vampires are evil; also, murder and references to Angelus' torturing Dru and, oddly, love. Your usual Spike/Dru shenannigans, then. Proceed at your own peril.
> 
> Inspired by Angel's line: “We were innocent victims, too. Once upon a time.”

The pale wallpaper in the nursery was spotted in red and the room was littered with the bodies of three little children, all wide-eyed and unseeing. Angelus and Darla were still having fun with the parents, if the screams were anything to go by. Was her Spike still in the maids’ quarters? Hmm, Drusilla cooed to the baby in her arms. So sad to play all alone.

The baby’s eyes were so blue, she mused, and it wasn’t crying. Her fangs were all pointy and her forehead all ridgy, and still the little thing just stared. Such a pretty, fat, little baby…

“Dru?”

“Spike,” Drusilla smiled, whirling around to show him the wriggling, warm bundle. “Looky. It’s so pretty, innit?”

The vampire was covered in blood, his once fancy clothes in disarray, his hair pulled and there were nail marks on his cheek; by the smell and Spike’s cocky grin, the last hours of the maids had been a delightful mix of pleasure and sweetened blood. Dru thought he looked quite fetching, her Spike.

“Playing wi’ the children now, are we?” He relaxed his features, his fangs retracted and worry sparkled in his blue eyes. No. Dru did not like her Spike worried.

“This one is not afraid,” she said dreamily, curling her fingers cutely at the baby. “I think it likes me.”

“Dru, this is not a pet, this is not one of your dolls,” he said patiently, shaking his head, motioning her to hand him the baby. “This is _food_.”

“It could be one of us,” she said, but her eyes were soon distant. “No. Daddy wouldn’t be pleased. Neither would Grandmummy.”

“Neither would I, poodle,” he told her softly. “Now, either put it back in its crib, or bite it already.”

Drusilla frowned quietly, wailing softly as she put the infant down on its cradle, covered it snuggly up to its chin, and lingered caressing it to sleep. A book was lying on the floor beside the cradle, and Dru picked it up with interest.

“I’d like to tell it a story,” she said quietly flipping through the pages. Spike noticed they were all blank. “Do you think it’d like that?”

Spike scratched his slightly intoxicated head. Dru’s tone was as dreamy as ever, true, and she _was_ attempting to read from a blank book, but so far there had been no talk of fairies, whispering stars, pixies or floating fish. And that _was_ a pretty cute baby. Oh, hell. Angelus and Darla seemed to be taking their time with the rest of the family, torture and rape and what-not; might as well amuse Dru for now.

“Sure, pet. Do tell.”

She smiled sweetly at him, still caressing the infant with one hand and feeling the words on the blank pages with the other. “Once upon a time there was a lovely young maiden princess who lived with her loving family…” she then traced shapes in the air, seemingly watching the story swirling around them. “A dear old uncle, a plump dear mamma and two very darling younger sisters. Their names were…”

She trembled suddenly, tilting backwards slightly. Spike was behind her just in time to prevent her from falling. Looking down at her he could see her clear eyes filled with tears. The book had fallen to the floor, right over a pool of one of the dead children’s blood.

“Can’t say their names, Spike,” she said in a whisper. “If Angelus hears me…”

“He won’t hear us, Dru,” he told her soothingly, running bloodied fingers through her long loose hair. “And stories that begin ‘once upon a time’ don’ need no names, pet. Jus’ go wi’ ‘the princess’, ‘the sisters’. Go on.”

The baby wriggled under its covers, seemingly giving Drusilla doe eyes, seemingly asking for her to proceed. She smiled faintly, sitting herself on the floor and holding on to the bars of the cradle. A finger swiped at the bloodied book, was sucked into her mouth with relish, and Dru smiled.

“The princess was very pretty, but also very shy,” she began again. “Her papa had left for the heavens when she was very little, and so her dear uncle had taken care of her, her poor mamma and sisters. But then came the fairies…”

Spike sighed. And she had been doing so well.

“Fairies and pixies and little green goblins would come to the princess at night, and whisper wicked evil things to her, and wiggle their dirty little fingers in her ears,” Dru’s voice had gained a jovial tone, but her eyes as she regarded the baby were still filled with tears. “She could _see_. See all the sinful, awful things that would come to pass. She feared, the poor thing, feared the wrath of He who sees, for He alone is supposed to know things before they happen…”

Her voice trailed off and she regarded Spike with wide, scared, child-like eyes. “Do you think me sinful, Spike?”

He just had to chuckle. “We’re vampires, Dru. Sinful is what we _are_.”

Dru wailed softly, looking downwards, the tears welting faster. “ _I know._ ”

Spike sat down behind her, drawing her to his lap, cuddling her like he would a small child. Drusilla rocked back and forth quietly. “The princess was walking on the streets one night, with her family, when she first felt it. When she first felt _him_.”

Her head fit perfectly just beneath his chin, and Spike could not tell whether she was licking the blood splattered on his shirt or if her tears had begun falling.

“‘Him’ who, pet?”

“She felt him, and she looked back, and she saw them. Smiling and staring and laughing and _promising_.” Drusilla shuddered. “She hurried her loved ones home. She was so scared…”

A pause, as her rocking slowed and the baby wriggled again. Spike just hoped the little bugger remained quiet. If Angelus or Darla were to find them now…

“The dreams of the moon and the evil fairies got stronger,” Dru went on, her tone one of terror, then of mirth. “She dreamt of all the little disasters that were to happen, at first to everyone else and then…” Spike felt a hand trailing the fastenings of his pants. “To herself.”

“Oh, really?” he smiled wickedly, allowing her free rein over whatever the hell Dru had set her mind to this time. “What was to happen to her?”

Dru smiled against his neck before licking the scar of her bite on him. “Sinful things.”

“Uh-hmm,” Spike said, a shiver and an involuntary trust against her hips. “Do tell.”

“He came to her at night,” she whispered seductively. “He hid in the dark corners of her mind and whispered all sorts of horrors to her. How he would maim her sweet family, how he would torture and expose her to the world as the filthy little seer that she was…”

“Dru…”

“The next morning she woke up to find the cook’s head at her feet, the woman’s large, mangled body nailed to her door.” She sighed, moving to slide her hips slowly against his and hug him with her legs. “How they all feared, and cried and wailed…”

“Dru,” Spike tried to hold her still. “This story…”

“And all the while she _knew_ , she _had seen_ all that would happen. She saw her uncle’s insides all torn, her mother’s parts unclothed and scattered, her little sisters spread out and all the blood gone from their pretty heads…”

“ _Dru_ ,” Spike said forcefully holding her head by burying his hands in her hair, looking deeply into her maddened eyes flowing with tears while sporting a maniacal grin. “What are-“

“And at night…” she finally adjusted herself just right, her hands doing away with the laces on his pants most industriously. He gulped. “Oh, _my Spike_ ,” she whispered lovingly, raising her dress and sliding down painfully slowly. “At night he would whisper all sorts of delightful,” she rose and fell softly, painfully softly, “sinful things in her ear, she would convulse and shiver with the _need_ for him and cry because it was _so wrong_ … Because she _wanted_ all those awful things and she _shouldn’t_ …”

Spike kissed her then, trying to drive away the pain swimming in her eyes, to burn Angelus’ touch off her memory. He could barely move in the position she had him trapped, but his blood-stained hands ran the length of her caringly, coaxing her to relax in his arms. The disturbing tale, however, would not give quarter.

“It all happened, Spike,” she said shivering. “They died horribly, in so much pain, and all she could think was how she wanted in _over_ , how…”

“Dru.” _Enough._

She blinked tears at him. “Fear. So scared. So _afraid_. All the nuns, dead and slaughtered and violated. All the priests butchered and bloodless. _The fear_ , Spike…”

“Listen to me, pet,” he said holding her face in his hands, offering her a bloody thumb to bite on. “Enough. It’s past. He can’t-“

She shuddered violently. “Snake in the woodshed. Her face contorted, the way he assaulted her, the way she loved it…” her head rolled back. “All so confusing. No more fairy whispers, just wailing and tears. And they _adored_ it, they made me… he _made me_ , Spike…” she sighed, breathlessly clutching to him. “And I reveled in it. I did. The pain was so…”

Pain. Alright, then. Spike kissed her again, this time biting down on her lower lip hard enough to draw blood with his blunt teeth. He pinned her beneath him on the floor, grinning madly as her white dress and long hair soaked in the blood seeping from the children’s bodies, loosened his collar and, after another bruising kiss, offered her his neck.

“Bite down, princess,” he told her, much more softly than either had expected. “Take back what they took from you. Your blood, your pleasure. Take it. It’s yours.”

Dru blinked another tear. So sweet, her Spike. Always so sweet, and caring. She bit him, and, as her fangs sank in, he rolled them over so she was on top, free to do with him whatever she pleased. Letting go of his sweet unpulsing artery, Dru kissed him on the lips.

“Love my Spike,” she said with a light smile, beginning to ride him familiarly, deliciously. “Love. Love. _Love_.”

“Love you, too, darlin’. God, _yes_.”

But as their passion escalated, the baby wailed indignantly. The two of them, both caked in blood and high on each other, exchanged a knowing, mirthful glance. Without separating their bodies, Spike pulled the cradle closer, picked up the infant and offered it to Dru with a mocking eyebrow raised.

“What _ever_ shall we do to this little one?”

Dru slowly shook her head. “It has heard frightening things. Seen things it shouldn’t.”

“Do we eat it, then?”

“No,” she smiled at him, then lovingly traced the lines of the baby’s face. “It is too pure to be dessert. Too beautiful.” In a swift motion, a small crack was heard, and the baby went limp as a doll in Spike’s hands. “And now, it gets to stay that way forever.”

Spike nodded. “Put the baby back into its crib, then; so we can resume our little party.”

Dru obliged, then kissed him with adoration sparkling in her eyes. “I love you, my Spike.”

“I love you, too, pet.”


End file.
